Sunday, September 12, 2010

Lost and found.

"Eccentricity is not, as dull people would have us believe, a form of madness. It is often a kind of innocent pride, and the man of genius and the aristocrat are frequently regarded as eccentrics because genius and aristocrat are entirely unafraid of and uninfluenced by the opinions and vagaries of the crowd."

- Edith Sitwell

Now that I'm approaching thirty, I've been sitting back and really taking stock of my life. Where am I? Who am I? What do I love/hate/need? What do I want to do with my life? All these questions become 3am conversations with myself, keeping my up and exhausting me until they've drained my brain like an old kitchen sponge.

The answer to all of the above is that I don't know. Where am I? I guess that depends on who you ask. To most people, making under 30k a year isn't anywhere palpable at all. Who am I? God (if I believed in one) only knows. Today, I'm a student. Tomorrow, a gym rat. It's fluid. What do I love/hate/need? Ever-changing. And I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life besides write.

To my excitement, though, I've realized none of that is directly related to what other people think of me. Do I care what my next door neighbor thinks of my blasting Florence and the Machine's cover of Halo at 9am? Nope. It makes me happy. Do I care that the head of the PTA is upset with me for not volunteering? No. In that regard, I've found myself.

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